


Life Worth Living

by Alexandria (heartfullofelves)



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drabble Collection, Elves, Female Friendship, Gen, Minor Character Death, Nudity, Sea-longing, Soft Voyeurism, Tumblr: legendariumladiesapril
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 04:05:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8474686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartfullofelves/pseuds/Alexandria
Summary: Eight drabbles for Legendarium Ladies April 2014, re-edited.





	1. The Favourite Poet

**Author's Note:**

> These stories all focus on Dínrosiel, an Elf OFC I used to role play on Tumblr. I'll admit that at first she was a self-insert, but she became much more developed and less like me as I wrote her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture Prompt: _The Favourite Poet_ by Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema  
>     
> 

**Rivendell, 3 years after the War of the Ring**

 

A scroll in which she'd written her newest poem sat in her lap. Her dearest friend, Dûragar, lay listening on the step above her as she read. Dínrosiel's voice started out strong, but after some time she began to tire from reading aloud and her throat dried up, causing her voice to croak. 

“You sound tired, _mellon_ ,” observed Dûra, gazing down at her friend.

“I am,” Dín said. “This poem's rather long. _This_ whole stanza is unnecessary.” She got her pen and crossed out something. “And this one.”

“Why don’t you take a break? You’ve been reading that thing for ages. Come up here and sit with me a moment.”

Dín set down her scroll before moving to sit beside Dûra. Dûra placed her head in her friend’s lap and they stayed like that for a moment, relaxing in each other’s company as they'd been doing since they first met centuries ago.

“You know,” said Dûra, “I do believe that you're my favourite of all the poets in Rivendell.”

Dínrosiel smiled. “I may be your favourite, but that doesn't mean I'm the best.”

“True. But you have all of eternity to get better.”

“Perhaps,” Dínrosiel acknowledged. “But poetry's not my preferred medium. I much prefer to write epic tales of adventure and friendship, you know.”

“I know.” A small sigh made its way past Dûra’s lips, but then she smiled up at her friend and asked her to braid her hair.

Dín shook her head with a laugh. “After all these centuries, you still can't braid your own hair!”

“Hey, I haven’t had the same practice you have.” Dûragar slapped Dínrosiel's arm.

“Whatever you say.” Dín smirked but began braiding her best friend’s golden hair anyway. “I don’t think I've ever seen such beautiful hair as yours,” she said in a wilful tone after a while.

“Yes you have. Lady Arwen’s is perfect, as is that of the King of Mirkwood.”

“Well then. Your hair is the third most beautiful I have ever seen.”

“And yours is the third most beautiful that _I_  have ever seen.” Dûra grinned up at Dín; they both giggled.

Halfway through the braiding, Dín paused, her smile fading. “I miss Giri,” she said. She meant Girithfalath, their friend who'd sailed west, leaving them on their own.

“I do too,” agreed Dûra. “It's not been the same since she left.”

“I…” Tears welled up in Dín’s eyes. “I still have the sea-longing, and it gets stronger every year,” she admitted. 

Dûra reached up and patted Dín’s shoulder. “It will be alright.”

“No, it won’t,” Dín argued. “Not unless you sail with me.”

Dûra sighed. “I would, I really would, but I just don’t know if I can.”

“Why not?" 

"Because… Just, _because_.”

“Because is not a reason, Dûragar.”

“I cannot sail because I'm not sure I want to.”

Dín’s face fell even more, and a few tears escaped and fell down her cheeks. “But you've never said so before!”

“I didn’t wish to hurt you.” Dûra sat up and wrapped her arms around Dín’s, while Dín lay her head on Dûra’s shoulder, sobbing.

“Hush, dear. It'll be alright,” Dûra soothed, smoothing Dín’s dark hair. “You'll be fine. Just because you wish to go west and I do not doesn’t mean we'll be parted forever.”

Her heart lightened and spirits lifted by Dûra’s words, Dín lifted her head from her friend’s shoulder. “You're right,” she sniffed, still holding onto Dûragar. “Nothing is strong enough to part us forever.”

“Exactly.” There was great warmth in Dûra’s tone. “Nothing. So you have nothing to worry about.”

Dín smiled a watery smile as she buried her head in her friend’s shoulder and held her close, drawing comfort from the tight embrace, Dûra’s uncompleted braid long-forgotten.

Once her tears had ceased, she pulled out of the embrace and rubbed a hand over her face. She smiled, feeling much better. “Now how about I finish reading you that poem?” she asked.


	2. The Mermaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture Prompt: _Secret River_ by Tony Hurst

Dínrosiel sat on a rock on the edge of the river, dangling her feet in the water. She called over her shoulder to Girithfalath, who was standing on steady ground a small distance behind her. “Come on! It’s such a hot day; don’t you want to cool down? The water's refreshing…”

“You know I hate swimming,” Giri called back.

Dín shook her head in disappointment. “I don’t believe that. You think being a _Lady_ means adhering to certain codes of conduct, and swimming's not part of the code.” After having known Giri so long, it was no wonder she was able to read her friend's mind.

“Tease all you like, I’m not going in,” Lady Girithfalath stated with a prim expression. Her hair was dressed in elaborate braids and she wore richly coloured robes. Dínrosiel, her Silvan best friend, wore a white chiffon dress, black hair tumbling down her back. Sitting there on the rock, she looked like a mermaid.

“Fine. Suit yourself.” Dín got off the rock, standing on the riverbank with her back to Giri, before untying her dress, which she let slide off her body to land on the ground. She walked into the river, long hair not covering her nakedness.

She dove under the water. Its coolness made refreshing contrast to the day's summer heat. She swam underwater for a while, disappearing from Giri’s line of vision, and when she could hold her breath no longer, shot upwards, breaking the surface of the water, to inhale enough air for the return. She was so quiet on her swim back to the rock that Giri didn’t notice Dín had returned until she rose up with a loud splash, water spraying everywhere. 

“Now I know why your parents called you Dínrosiel!” Girithfalath called out. “ _Silent spray_ – they were being ironic.” 

Dín grinned. “Sure you don’t want to come in for a dip?”

“Quite sure,” Giri replied with a laugh. “Watching you be a mermaid is much more entertaining than getting in the water myself.”

Dínrosiel laughed.


	3. A Failure At Domesticity

A Silvan Elf was busy in her kitchen. She added some flour and cinnamon to the mixture in the bowl, rolled up her sleeves, and picked up a wooden spoon. A few minutes later found her putting a tray of biscuits in the oven. Satisfied with her efforts, she closed the oven door and went to her bedroom. A book lay beside her bed, begging to be picked up and read.

Before you could say “distraction”, Dínrosiel had lost herself in the magical world of the book, oblivious to anything but the story. It was only when her sharp Elven senses picked up a strong odour coming from the kitchen that she threw down the book and ran to try and save the biscuits.

She yanked open the oven door. Seeing black smoke billowing from the tray, she reached inside the oven to grab the biscuits, but in her haste, she forgot to use an oven glove, and burnt her hand. She cried out and ran to submerge her hand in cold water, splashing water down her front and soaking her dress. She stood still to allow herself a moment to breathe.

When she'd calmed down, she went back to retrieve her biscuits, now smelly mounds of black. She rubbed her forearm across her brow and sobbed. She hurried to dispose of the biscuits, which served as a reminder of her failure at domesticity.

Her guest would be here soon, she realised. She would have to bake something else, and bake it fast. She resorted to a recipe she knew by heart, a recipe that her guest had given her and could not complain about.

Racing around the kitchen, she whipped up the new mixture from scratch. This time, she didn't leave the room while the oven did its job, and the result was a perfect batch of baking. The new aroma disguised the smell of burnt biscuits so that Dínrosiel almost forgot her previous failure.

A knock sounded at the door. Smiling, she went to greet her guest. Dínrosiel's hair was dishevelled, water had soaked her dress, specks of flour decorated her face, and a bandage covered her right hand.

“Come in!” she invited her guest. “I made us some honeycakes.”


	4. A Queen Falls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Themes: background characters and textual ghosts; seasons; darkness. 
> 
> This is AU. Dín does not have a tragic past.

When Dínrosiel was a young elfling, the forest was called the Greenwood. Darkness was not yet known to the Wood Elves in these parts; spiders and orcs did not enter this tranquil woodland. Instead, there was peace.

One winter’s day, Dínrosiel ventured out into the heart of the forest alone, having slipped past her parents as they looked after her baby sister. She came across a clearing that was illuminated and warmed by the sun. Exhausted after her long walk, she sat down on a log.

Before long, her little pointed ears picked up the sound of footsteps. She looked up and saw the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen, a regal-looking woman with a crown resting on her long brown hair. Dínrosiel's eyes widened. She stood and curtsied as she'd been taught by her mother.

“I’m Dínrosiel,” she announced. “What’s your name?”

The woman smiled, looking down with kindness at the elfling before her. “My name is Glawareth.”

The name meant sunlight in Sindarin. That knowledge caused young Dínrosiel’s heart to leap with joy. The woman’s presence made her feel safe, protected somehow. “Have I seen you before?” she asked. “You look familiar.” She stumbled over the big word.

“Yes. I’m your Queen,” Glawareth told her with a patience only mothers had. 

“My Lady,” Dínrosiel gasped, curtseying again.

“Come and sit with me a moment,” suggested the Elven-Queen, gesturing to an inviting log.

The elfling was happy to obey the request, and the two sat side by side on the log. The two Silvan Elves – one a Queen, the other a child – talked for some time. Dínrosiel had never felt so awestruck, and Glawareth had never felt so fond of a child who was not related to her. She had wished for a daughter of her own, but had to be content with a single son. She admired the girl’s raven hair, offering to braid it.

“Your hair will be long someday,” she predicted. “It will be wavy and it will come all the way down to here.” She pointed to Dínrosiel’s hip. “You will be the prettiest _elleth_ in the Greenwood.”

Dínrosiel giggled. One day, she would look back, remembering the Queen’s prediction, and regret that her hair had not grown that long. But for now, she listened to this proclamation with glee.

The Queen silenced Dínrosiel, putting a finger to her lips. “Something approaches,” she whispered. Standing, she drew her sword.

Dínrosiel saw shadows forming in the trees, figures coming closer, but didn't know why. What was happening?

With ferocious battle cries, the figures attacked. Glawareth cried out and stood in front of Dínrosiel, shielding her from view. With any luck, she was small enough to not be seen and the enemy wouldn’t know discover her presence.

The Queen’s sword slashed this way and that, chopping down the attackers. Dínrosiel still didn’t know what they were; they were big and ugly creatures she'd never seen before.

The Queen fought as long as she could, even when her clothes were torn and her fair face marred with cuts, keeping the child hidden behind her skirts. Glawareth, Queen and Protector of her people, couldn’t let the terrible _yrch_ take the girl. But by the time there were two orcs left, she was gasping for breath. She lifted her sword with exhausted arms and swung, decapitating one of the orcs, but the other was too quick. It lifted its horrible club with its meaty arm, and struck.

The Queen groaned, eyes rolling back. She fell backwards, landing on the child. She departed this world before she could know she'd saved Dínrosiel from harm. She would never know.

Hours later, they found their beloved Queen’s body on top of a screaming and weeping - but alive - elfling. Rain began to fall as they carried the Queen to her final resting place. The sun had disappeared.

From then on, Dínrosiel grew up in a forest that was not free of darkness and evil.


	5. The Watcher in the Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture Prompt: _WG - Rainbow’s Return_ by Ingo Schobert
> 
>  
> 
> Theme: flaws, faults, and weaknesses.

She stood in the shadows, silent and still. She hid from the one she watched, who disrobed and stepped under the waterfall. She couldn't help it – she'd never seen such perfection before. She didn't know who she watched, and she didn't care; she was drawn to him anyway.

Her eyes stayed on the stranger, unable to tear her gaze away as he washed himself under the cascade of water, unaware of her presence. She could face serious punishment for this, so she didn’t move; she stayed in her hiding spot. She watched the man wash his hair, and when he turned around to rinse out the soap, she gave a small gasp and averted her eyes.

Her heart raced. Had he heard her gasp? Had she betrayed herself?

But he kept bathing under the waterfall, giving no signs that he was aware of his observer. When he was done, he stepped out of the waterfall, dried himself, and dressed. He started to walk away, but Dínrosiel's foot slipped and she fell forward, out of her hiding place. His head snapped towards the commotion.

She was discovered.


	6. The Stars of Imladris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dínrosiel decides that it is time for her to leave her home and join her mother in Rivendell. When she gets there, she is greeted by the beautiful night sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Themes: at a crossroads; happiness and joy.

She'd lived in the forest for 930 years; she'd known no other home than Mirkwood. And though the shadow grew in the south, she'd never intended to leave.

But that was the before the Battle of Five Armies. That was before her loved ones, her friends and family members, were killed. And since her mother had left for the safety of Imladris, Dínrosiel was beginning to think it might be safer to leave as well.

 _What keeps me here?_ She looked up at the night sky, past the treetops, but no stars were out. She hadn’t seen the stars in a long time. A tear slipped down her cheek. _What keeps me here?_ she asked herself again. _Nothing_.

Mirkwood no longer felt like home. Home meant safety and warm fires and fresh food. These were all scarce these days. Darkness threatened them all.

Her thoughts turned to Rivendell. She'd never travelled there herself, but from her mother’s detailed letters she could picture the place and imagine herself living there.

Decision made, she climbed down from the branch on which she'd perched, and went to talk to her father and sister.

* * *

Years later, two Elf maids rode into Rivendell at dusk, carrying their belongings in bags and boxes. When Dínrosiel and her sister dismounted, someone was there to greet them and show them the way. They arrived at their mother’s house to a joyful reunion.

Later, when night had fallen, Dínrosiel wandered outside to be alone with her thoughts. The air was cool, so she wrapped a shawl over her shoulders. She looked up - and gasped. The stars were out, and they were beautiful. She gazed up at them for a long time, her heart truly happy for the first time in a century. Mirkwood was her past, where she would lay all her bad memories to rest. Rivendell would be her future.

Until the sea-longing began.


	7. The Tutor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poetry Prompt: [_History-Geography_](http://www.poetrytranslation.org/poems/history-geography) by Karin Karakasli

The boy pointed to a place on the map that was laid out on the table. “Is that Mirkwood?”

Dínrosiel, his tutor, smiled. “That’s what it used to be called, yes. Now it’s Eryn Lasgalen.”

“Why did it change?” asked the boy.

Dínrosiel said, “Its name was changed because the forest changed, simple as that. Years ago, it used to be dark and scary. Monsters were aplenty, and a shadow grew in the south. But after the hobbit Frodo Baggins destroyed the One Ring, the forest became green again. The leaves grew back on the trees, and there were no more monsters. Do you see?”

“I see. And when did this happen?”

“About a year before you were born. Your parents married once the Ring was destroyed and there was peace again.”

“Can I see my parents?” the boy demanded.

Dínrosiel shook her head. “After this lesson. They asked me to teach you things, so the sooner you let me teach you, the sooner you can get back to them.”

“But I’m bored,” was the boy’s whine.

His tutor sighed. “How about I read you a poem about my people, and then I will let you go?” she suggested.

He nodded, eager to hear her Elven voice read to him.

Dínrosiel went to the bookshelf and pulled out a slim volume of poetry. She opened it and flicked to the page she wanted before clearing her throat and beginning to read. The poem was one of her favourites, as it told a brief history of the Elves of Middle-earth, and she could easily lose herself in the words. When she was done, she closed the book. “And that, young master, is the end.”

“But I want to know more,” the boy protested.

“But there is no more; that’s the end. Perhaps when you're older you will write a new ending, after all the Elves have gone west.”

“But I don’t want them to leave. I don’t want you to leave.” The boy clung to Dínrosiel, begging her not to go.

“I must,” she explained, patting him on the head. “I hear the gulls calling me home, and someday soon I must heed their call.”

When she returned him to his parents, they took him in their arms and turned to Dínrosiel. “We can’t thank you enough for being patient with him,” his mother said as the father handed Dínrosiel some coins.

“You’re welcome, my Lord, my Lady,” Dínrosiel replied with a modest bow of her head. “He’s a pleasure to teach.”

The boy thanked her as he skipped away with his family.


	8. The Road Ahead

Dínrosiel walks around her home, Imladris. A soft breeze flows, causing leaves to rustle and sweeping her hair out of her face. She looks around her, really _looks_. This has been her home for the past few decades; when she hears the word “home”, this is what she imagines. The houses and other buildings are golden, the sunlight reflecting off them, and she marvels at the intricate carvings found all over Rivendell that she takes for granted every day.

Something stirs in her breast, unbidden, which she recognises as the sea-longing. Before coming to Rivendell, she'd believed the sea-longing was a myth and not something she'd ever experience, but now she feels it each day, and knows that sometime soon she must heed the call to sail west like her ancestors.

She knows her path will lead her to Valinor. She does not know when, only that someday she'll make the journey and begin a new life. She might even start her own family, a thought that brings a faint but wry smile to her face - if that happens, it will be in the distant future. Still, she'll be happy again soon. She just doesn’t know when.

But for now she is destined to remain in Rivendell, where she will make sure she passes the time with joy, making the most of the fortunate life she possesses, for she has her books, and her mother, and her friends to comfort her. They have always made her life worth living.


End file.
